the door, assumed the arms crossed-slash-doorjamb leaning position and lifted an eyebrow.
It was an arrogant look but that didn’t mean it wasn’t a good look so I silently told my nether regions to calm down.
His lips twitched suspiciously.
Damn Mavis’s mind-meld!
“Yes?” he asked before I could get it together.
“I want to move to The Dungeons,” I informed him. “Do you mind sharing your lair?”
“My lair?” he asked, eyebrows knitting.
I nodded my head to The Dungeons.
“You hate it down there. You won’t even go down there,” he reminded me.
“My sisters are driving me nuts. Two words: Patchouli and Lapsong Souchong.” (Okay, that’s kinda three words.) “Do you understand me?” I finished, perhaps a little hysterically.
He didn’t answer.
“My sanctuary is lost!” I cried.
He didn’t look like he cared very much. He seemed far more focused on watching my mouth form the words than helping me with my problems.
“We’ll make it less spooky down there,” I suggested hopefully.
“Spooky?” he asked, having decided to repeat everything I say.
“Fog lights,” I said. “Big ones, like they use in the movies.”
He looked me in the eye as if considering that possibility (not).
“And we’ll light a sage stick, flush out any ghosts.” I was warming to my theme.
“I know a way to make it less spooky.” His lips weren’t twitching anymore and he was looking at me in a way that did even more intense things to my nether regions.
“Mathilda!” Mom was shouting from the kitchen. “Where’s the lobster pot?”
“What way is that?” I asked, trying to be flirty with my Mom shouting at me from the other room. (Not working.)
(Lobster pot?)
“Mathilda!”
Another grin from Ash.
“Your mother’s calling you.” This was Ash then he stood back as if to let me pass, down the stairs, into the dreaded Dungeons. “Would you like to continue this conversation somewhere else?”
I looked at him.
I looked beyond him.
Hmm.
Quandary.
Okay, I know you think I’m insane. But trust me, The Dungeons are scary.
Only people like Ash could live down there. He could probably kill someone with his bare hands. He’d probably seen things that would make my hair curl (egad!). Or worse, done things that would make me wonder about him.
Auntie Mavis had been telling me stories about Sebastian Wilding. About his years in boarding school (!), his days in the Army (SAS – Special Air Service, some serious English Army dudes a la Green Beret, or better example, Russell Crowe in Proof of Life ), his time “in training” in Asia ( Kill Bill anyone?).
Anyway.
Weird noises, unexplained breezes, indistinct whispering sounds and strange apparitions would be nothing to him.
I swallowed hard.
They were something to me.
He shook his head and said, “When you’re ready,” and closed the door in my face.
Ack!
Apparently, to get laid, a girl has to go to The Dungeon (shiver).
Not ready for that.
Rory:
Thinks Su is a hoot (but then again, she thinks it’s okay that he experience beer and has been spending a lot of time introducing him to Led Zeppelin, Jimmy Hendrix, Deep Purple and, of course, Jerry Garcia).
Josie:
Is holed up a lot with Gran, thinks she’s fantastic. She’s right, although that alliance scares me just a trifle… those two political wildcats may be planning some kind of hijacking of Douglas Addison’s visit next week. How am I supposed to protect Josie if she gets in cahoots with Gran?
Agatha Darling:
Apparently, if (rather lame) coven circle by light of the moon last night is anything to go by, has a powerful shadow over herself and whoever she’s working with. Members of Edwards Coven are missing, other members aren’t talking. Mavis has got the Witchworld grapevine buzzing but nothing has come of it.
Aidan:
Got a package in the mail with a note that said, “Sorry this is late. Thanks for the cookies.” with a mobile number. The package held a set of The
It was an arrogant look but that didn’t mean it wasn’t a good look so I silently told my nether regions to calm down.
His lips twitched suspiciously.
Damn Mavis’s mind-meld!
“Yes?” he asked before I could get it together.
“I want to move to The Dungeons,” I informed him. “Do you mind sharing your lair?”
“My lair?” he asked, eyebrows knitting.
I nodded my head to The Dungeons.
“You hate it down there. You won’t even go down there,” he reminded me.
“My sisters are driving me nuts. Two words: Patchouli and Lapsong Souchong.” (Okay, that’s kinda three words.) “Do you understand me?” I finished, perhaps a little hysterically.
He didn’t answer.
“My sanctuary is lost!” I cried.
He didn’t look like he cared very much. He seemed far more focused on watching my mouth form the words than helping me with my problems.
“We’ll make it less spooky down there,” I suggested hopefully.
“Spooky?” he asked, having decided to repeat everything I say.
“Fog lights,” I said. “Big ones, like they use in the movies.”
He looked me in the eye as if considering that possibility (not).
“And we’ll light a sage stick, flush out any ghosts.” I was warming to my theme.
“I know a way to make it less spooky.” His lips weren’t twitching anymore and he was looking at me in a way that did even more intense things to my nether regions.
“Mathilda!” Mom was shouting from the kitchen. “Where’s the lobster pot?”
“What way is that?” I asked, trying to be flirty with my Mom shouting at me from the other room. (Not working.)
(Lobster pot?)
“Mathilda!”
Another grin from Ash.
“Your mother’s calling you.” This was Ash then he stood back as if to let me pass, down the stairs, into the dreaded Dungeons. “Would you like to continue this conversation somewhere else?”
I looked at him.
I looked beyond him.
Hmm.
Quandary.
Okay, I know you think I’m insane. But trust me, The Dungeons are scary.
Only people like Ash could live down there. He could probably kill someone with his bare hands. He’d probably seen things that would make my hair curl (egad!). Or worse, done things that would make me wonder about him.
Auntie Mavis had been telling me stories about Sebastian Wilding. About his years in boarding school (!), his days in the Army (SAS – Special Air Service, some serious English Army dudes a la Green Beret, or better example, Russell Crowe in Proof of Life ), his time “in training” in Asia ( Kill Bill anyone?).
Anyway.
Weird noises, unexplained breezes, indistinct whispering sounds and strange apparitions would be nothing to him.
I swallowed hard.
They were something to me.
He shook his head and said, “When you’re ready,” and closed the door in my face.
Ack!
Apparently, to get laid, a girl has to go to The Dungeon (shiver).
Not ready for that.
Rory:
Thinks Su is a hoot (but then again, she thinks it’s okay that he experience beer and has been spending a lot of time introducing him to Led Zeppelin, Jimmy Hendrix, Deep Purple and, of course, Jerry Garcia).
Josie:
Is holed up a lot with Gran, thinks she’s fantastic. She’s right, although that alliance scares me just a trifle… those two political wildcats may be planning some kind of hijacking of Douglas Addison’s visit next week. How am I supposed to protect Josie if she gets in cahoots with Gran?
Agatha Darling:
Apparently, if (rather lame) coven circle by light of the moon last night is anything to go by, has a powerful shadow over herself and whoever she’s working with. Members of Edwards Coven are missing, other members aren’t talking. Mavis has got the Witchworld grapevine buzzing but nothing has come of it.
Aidan:
Got a package in the mail with a note that said, “Sorry this is late. Thanks for the cookies.” with a mobile number. The package held a set of The
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